Dreams
by colossally abundant numbers
Summary: In the height of WWII, Germany develops the technology to allow humans to never sleep. The allies desperately scramble to catch up. USUK


**Summary/Notes: **In the height of WWII, Germany develops the technology to allow humans to never sleep. The allies desperately scramble to catch up.

Where did this idea come from? Ack. D; Some background: this takes place sometime in Jan 1942, so the U.S. has entered the war. Everything after this point will deviate from history, although there will still be historical references.

* * *

It took almost an hour for England to read the letter. He was sure it was France's doing-a cursive scrawl with thin loops for y's and g's—but in their day and age, anyone could've imitated France's handwriting. He'd winced at the misspelling of his name, though he supposed France was too tired and weary to care about such small details. It was only about halfway through the letter that England realized France had switched to German—_German_. (Had France lowered himself to learning—_using—_that bastard's language? He supposed bitterly that prisoners had no choice in the matter.)

The last bit of the letter (written in English) caught his attention-_and because of this, his people no longer need to sleep_. Germany's people no longer needed to sleep? Sleep, that most fundamental of all human needs, and something that England very much looked forward to every night (if he could even determine the differences between night and day)—and Germany no longer needed it.

There was also a vial enclosed with the letter, and England was sure the vial was somehow related to the sleeplessness. Had France somehow smuggled a vial of whatever it was Germany was giving himself to remain awake? What was France suggesting by sending England such a thing? He needed to let everyone know, they needed to get together to discuss the veracity of the letter, maybe debate its merits, work out the consequences.

America had once bragged about not sleeping for three days in a row—the nation had gone on a coffee high—but then he'd come down and slept for eighteen hours, undisturbed even when England had tickled his feet. He'd _slept_, and that was the key. England hesitated, reaching for his phone. Should he call now—when it was two in the morning where America was—or should he wait until later? Perhaps he should call now, he decided, as he couldn't guarantee that his phone would still be functioning if he waited, what with the Blitz and all.

The rotary spun, once, twice...

"America," England mumbled in greeting, picking absent-mindedly at the scab on his forearm.

"Is that you-England?" a groggy voice asked at the other end, "Damn it, I hope you realize there is a time difference between us! I just got into bed, and-"

"Yes, I'm fully aware that it's two in the morning where you are. But America, this matter can't wait until later. I was just made aware that Germany-Germany has succeeded in modifying the human body to allow for his people to function on no sleep."

"So what? What is that supposed to mean for us? Look, England, can we talk about this in the morn—"

"It explains the past few years, America. You weren't there, you didn't see—the blitz—it was there at all hours of the day, at all hours of the night, it never stopped! It's as though Germany simply never slept, as though he was awake for every moment of it. And to think that it was because he no longer needed to sleep! Do you see it, America, do you? Do you see how much power he's gained with this simple little fact? Germany can spend twice as much time training his men, twice as much time planning his offensives, twice as much time producing U-boats-"

"Wait, wait, England, just because the blitz never stopped doesn't mean that Germany never sleeps! His people could just be switching off, some taking the night shift and some the day shift. And how do you even know your source is reliable?"

"France, America. The source is France..."

They didn't talk about it again for another three months. Partially it was because they were all busy, all worried sick over their own prospects in the war. In the first month, Leningrad had been taken, and by the third, Moscow had followed. England had thought it impossible for Russia to fall—Russia, backed by General Winter and General Insanity, Russia, of all people, should _never_ have fallen in his own land.

And he'd seen the photos. There'd been so much blood, oh god, so much fucking blood, and it was so sharp and rustic against the pale blue of Russian snow. Most of it was pouring from a wound on Russia's head, because the fool had shot himself in the head twice (he hadn't wanted the humiliation of capture, England knew), though he'd somehow managed to skirt death. Three months, and they'd lost Moscow and Leningrad and _Russia—_just what the hell had they done wrong? Or, what the hell had Germany done _right_?

Now England was sitting in a makeshift bed, France's vial gripped tightly in one hand. America sat next to him, looking uncomfortable.

"I still don't think France is a reliable source, England. I mean, he's a German prisoner!"

England let out a bitter laugh. "Are you going to do this or not? I thought—I thought you wanted to save us, save Europe, right? Germany has the power to destroy Europe as we know it, and you've seen it, America, you saw it with your own eyes. You saw how he ran over North Africa, how he weakened Russia bit by bit. You _saw_, America, and yet what have you done in the mean time? Complain about France not being a reliable source? Whinge-"

"I was _fighting_, England! You can't possibly say I was just sitting on the sidelines, _watching_-"

"Oh, you fought alright, you _fought_, but look at how far that's led us, huh? Look at Japan, look at how many islands we've lost in Southeast Asia in just a short three months, look at your own Hawaii! I'm not asking this of you casually, America, I'm asking you because this is our last hope, because if we wait any longer, we'll be sitting in some stuffy meeting room negotiating our defeat, listening to Germany and Japan and that farcical Italy explain to us how they're going to partition us, how we'll have to teach German and Japanese in our schools!"

"I get _why_ you're asking, alright? But this is some shit from a random vial from god knows where! How the hell can you be sure it's even from France? How can you be sure Germany didn't intercept the package and fill the vial up with poison? You put your fucking hope in this one little bottle, and it turns into a goddamn landmine! You don't _know_ what's in here, you have _no idea_, and you're asking me to risk my life on a nonsensical—"

"I've had my scientists perform tests on it, America! It's most certainly _not_ a poison."

"Yeah? But have they been able to determine whether or not it actually works the way you think it does? Even if it does make it so you don't need sleep, how do you know this shit has no side effects? Germany thinks he can alter humanity to his pleasure, but how much does he actually know? How much does the bastard know about science, how much of this is just him feeding his populace a bundle of lies and a whole lotta caffeine? Drinking an unknown substance-this is the stupidest idea I've ever heard!"

"So you don't give a shit about Europe, right? Oh, that's mighty fine, America, it's not as if I expected you to _care_. After all, you're not _here_, you're not in the heart of things, you're not fucking dealing with and swallowing their bullshit everyday! Because when this damn war is over, no matter who wins, you can just go ahead and crawl back to your nice hideout in North America and tell the world to go fuck itself. Why would you _ever_ give a damn?"

"Are you fucking kidding me, England? Everyone knows how self-centered you Europeans are, but this damn war isn't just _Europe_ anymore! The whole _world_ is affected now, not a single one of us can avoid this shitstorm you idiots started! Why the hell do you think Japan had the gall to attack Pearl Harbor? He practically invaded me, and here you are, thinking you're the only one who felt some sort of pain! Don't fucking lecture me on this shit, because I _know_ just as well as you do."

"Alright, so you _know_, America, but do you _care_? Germany's talking about this bomb, and goddamn it, you _know_ what will happen if this bomb is anywhere near as powerful as it's claimed to be. You think we have the resources to develop something similar in time? You think we're even anywhere _close_ to competing in an arms race with Germany? Goddamn it, America, I don't _want_ this, no one wants this, but what if the alternative is worse? Do you want to become the next Russia-the next France?"

"Who the hell says we'd become the next Russia or France? Goddamnit, England, I'm not that pathetic—"

"You know what, if you're not going to drink it, that's fine. I've dealt with occupation before—" _that fucking France_ "—I'm used to it and I don't give a damn. You, on the other hand, since when have you ever had a proper invasion? One where you're actually under the rule of someone else, where—"

England fell forward suddenly, the sounds of bombs and artillery fire ringing in his ears. He saw flashes of his people appear and disappear in the room-people falling, children crying, an eye, a limb, a life...The hazy green of his military uniform darkened as a red liquid seeped through the cloth.

"Damnit, _England_!" America grabbed England's shoulders, trying to get the nation to break free from his hallucination. This had only occurred once before, and that had been before America entered the war. England had thought he'd seen soldiers and civilians and everyone falling, dying, never to return, and when he came out of it, he was like a machine, voice inflectionless and eyes passionless.

"Come on, England, please wake up...please..."

England was right, England was so _damn_ right-they were going to lose (like England was losing), they were going to fall (like England was falling), and he would be forced to watch as the jigsaw puzzle fell into place, piece by piece.

"England," America whispered, feeling a desperation he'd never felt before, "I'll drink it, alright? I'll drink it! Just...just stop..." He removed the vial from England's grip, unscrewed it, staring unnervingly at the contents.

Then he downed everything, hiccuping as the liquid bubbled towards his stomach.

—

Also, there's a series by Nancy Kress about what would happen if a subset of humans no longer needed to sleep, although that was much more futuristic. Reviews are appreciated! :)


End file.
